Washed Away A Dream Of You
by sergeantmicky
Summary: What if, when Bucky remembered Steve in The Winter Soldier, it was not the first time it happened? What if he'd started to remember him several times over the last 70 years, and they just wiped his memory every time? Memories of Steve always bring a comforting, warm, blue presence to the edge of his consciousness... ANGST. No slash.


**Hello everyone! **

**I don't know if this has been done before, but here's my little idea - what if Bucky recognized Steve before the time that we saw him do it in The Winter Soldier? What if it had happened several times over the past 70 years? Things reminding him, dreams and other triggers, just trying to bring his memories to the surface?**

**I just want to say quickly - if at any time it seems I'm contradicting myself in each chapter with what Bucky knows and doesn't know about/understand, it is deliberate. I have this theory that maybe the effects of the machine were cumulative, and the more they wiped his mind the more things he lost. **

**Also - I have him knowing Rumlow's name all the time, but not Pierce's, because I feel like they'd always give him Rumlow's name seeing as they're working together, but Pierce's name not so much.**

**WARNING: LANGUAGE. Rumlow drops the F-bomb and other unpleasant words. Sorry. I hope no one is offended.**

**The title is from the Skid Row song "I Remember You". **

**I own absolutely nothing.**

**x**

**1948**

There is something wrong with him. He is alternating hot and cold, burning up and freezing at the same time, and he is so exhausted he can barely move or think. His metal arm is malfunctioning too, it does not respond at all, and he wishes he could lift it and lay it across his forehead to relieve the heat, but it will not move.

He lays on the table they strapped him to and suffers. He is shirtless, the metal table ice against his back, and there is someone very close to him that is whimpering. Soft, pathetic little sounds, like a hurt animal, and he wants to turn and see what is wrong with them, but he is just too tired.

Nearby, the men in white coats are whispering amongst themselves.

The small man with big glasses – he knows that face, even if he does not have a name to go with it – arrives a few moments later. He comes to the table and looks down at the Soldier, and he mutters things that the Soldier does not understand, then moves away.

The Soldier can hear them saying things, things like "_not supposed to..._ _unanticipated" _and "_new development... reacting badly_... _not strong enough anymore". _

He does not understand, but he knows from past experience that nothing good ever comes out of the men in white coats whispering.

Another shiver wracks his body and the whimpering gets louder. He twists his neck around, tries to see who else is in the room, but they must be standing directly behind him, because he cannot see anything.

The small man in the glasses comes back, and he preps a needle and sticks it into the Soldier's arm.

The Soldier thinks that he is taking blood, something that does not bother him most of the time but right now he is so miserable and everything hurts, his _skin hurts, _and his eyes grow hot with tears.

The man in glasses reaches up and touches the Soldier's forehead, and his touch is not exactly gentle, but the gesture triggers something, something that he cannot quite remember, and it tickles at the back of his mind, feather-light, dancing out of his reach.

The man in glasses walks away, the men in white coats following him, and the Soldier lays on the table and drifts into sleep.

_He is slouched on the couch, hot and miserable, completely still because it is just too much work to move, and he is sore all over._

"_I think your fever's getting worse." _

_A beautiful woman with dark curls, wearing a navy blue dress with white dots, leans down and brushes the back of her hand against his forehead. _

"_Poor baby. I'll make you chicken soup. That should make you feel better."_

"_I'm not a baby anymore," he replies with a sigh. "I've been taller than you for years." But there's no heat behind it, and she laughs, straightening up._

"_You'll always be my baby, I don't care how big you get." She leaves the room, but not before giving him a soft smile that makes him feel warm and comfortable and loved despite his protests. _

"_She's so nice," a second voice says, and this voice is young and male, coming from a skinny young man sitting nearby in a different chair. "You're so lucky." _

_He feels a bit guilty then for some reason, but the young man just smiles at him and gets up, walks over, flops down next to him on the couch, reaches out an arm and pulls him close to lean against his shoulder._

"_Cheer up. You're so grumpy when you're sick." _

"_Get away from me. You'll get sick," he says half-heartedly, trying to pull away, and the skinny boy laughs. _

"_Hey. Relax, okay? I'll be fine." _

"_You're a punk," he says softly, but he is so tired, and leaning on the smaller man is comforting. He can't quite bring himself to pull away._

_The skinny boy's voice is fond. "And you're a jerk. Shut up and go to sleep." _

He wakes up abruptly, another needle already in his arm, and the man in glasses is right next to him.

The Soldier's face is wet and his eyes are hot and he realizes he is crying. It has been a very long time since he cried, and he wonders if he will be in trouble for it, but the man in glasses only looks interested.

"Why do you weep?" he asks softly, and the Soldier finds he does not want to answer. Something in him knows that telling the man in glasses about his dream will not go over well.

"Answer me," the man says. "Or I'm sure my men will have no problem with treating you to another round in the machine." His voice is so calm, so kind, completely opposite to the words coming out of his mouth, and the Soldier trembles.

Whoever that was in the room who was whimpering before starts up again.

_Not that, not the machine, please not that. _

He has not been in the machine for what feels like a very long time now, and he would very much like to keep it that way because it hurts _it hurts. _

"I had a dream," he says reluctantly, and his voice is quivering. He hates it. He does not like to be weak.

"About what?" The man in glasses sounds only mildly interested, but he leans in, listening closely.

"A woman," the Soldier replies, not meeting his eyes.

"Who was she?" The man's voice is very soft.

The Soldier hesitates, tries hard to remember. He does not understand why it's so hard. "I don't know," he says finally.

The man in glasses smiles faintly. "Did you dream of anything else?"

The Soldier bites his lip, casts his memory back. "A boy."

"Who was he?"

The Soldier swallows, stares up at the ceiling. He starts to say "I don't know" but almost as soon as he opens his mouth to speak he stops.

_I do know. I remember. _

"Steve," he says quietly, because it is a name he's never heard before, and he does not know why he knows it, and it might be wrong.

The man stops smiling. His blue eyes go blank. "Who is Steve?"

The Soldier scrunches up his forehead, blinks hard, realizes he is still crying. He sniffs. "I think – I think – he was my friend."

He does not know how he knows this, and it _must _be wrong, because he does not have friends, and he never has. But there was something about that boy, something so familiar, and thinking of him makes the Soldier's mind go quiet for once, and not in a bad way. Not in the way that his mind goes quiet after the machine – this is a peaceful quiet – a calm warmth that soothes him and makes him feel _not alone_... the dream has left behind a warm blue haze in his head that is so very, very comforting.

He looks at the man in glasses and there is an odd expression on his face – a cross between frustration and amazement.

"Well," he says softly, "That just won't do."

He leaves the room, and when he comes back the men in white coats are with him, and they come over and start moving the Soldier's table backwards and he knows, he knows where it is going and the whimpering starts up again but this time he knows it is him, it is him who is whimpering and _was _whimpering, there was never anyone else in the room.

They hook him up to the machine and after that he does not remember anything again, and it is the last time he is allowed to sleep.

**1999**

Sometimes, when it's been a long time since the last wipe, he dreams. Not clearly, just feelings or sounds that he shouldn't know, and they don't make sense to him, and they don't mean anything to him when he wakes up. But this time is different.

They're heading back from a mission, and he is sitting on the floor of the van because there isn't enough room to sit up on the seats – Rumlow and his men are all up there.

This does not bother him. Discomfort is not something that he ever thinks about, it just _is. _He spends most of his existence being uncomfortable.

But tonight, he's tired. He doesn't get tired often, either. But he is tonight. His body is exhausted and he wants to sleep. He can't remember whether sleep is something he's supposed to do or not – he doesn't think it is, because he doesn't ever remember falling asleep – they just put him under and he wakes up again whenever they want him to – and when they put him under, the darkness is never this comforting.

His head droops forward until it is almost touching his knees, and he lets himself drift into the soothing darkness.

_It's dark, dark and cool, and he is afraid. Somewhere nearby there are people moving around. He's shivering and he's terrified. _

"_Hey."_

_Someone is sitting near him, someone whose very presence comforts him. _

"_You okay?" _

_He doesn't answer, he just leans toward that person, and an arm is wrapped around his shoulders, heavy and warm, pulling him close until he is pressed against the person's side. _

"_It's okay. I've got you. I won't let them hurt you again." _

_His terror is slowly bleeding away, and he leans his head on the person's shoulder and closes his eyes. _

"Time to go. Get up."

He snaps awake – someone is nudging him hard in the ribs. He's disoriented, cold. He doesn't remember where he is. His face feels wet.

He stays on the floor, closes his eyes, tries to go back to that dark cool place with that comforting presence. There is a strong, warm blue _feeling _at the edge of his consciousness, and he thinks it is the source of the comfort. He tries to focus on it.

"I said get up."

A hand grabs his shoulder – Rumlow, he knows that rough touch - pushes him back against the seats behind him, and he waits for a blow that does not come. Rumlow is suddenly very still, and the Soldier is very aware that something is not right.

"Why are you crying?"

Rumlow's voice is low, low and dangerous and it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He does not know what crying is, so he cannot answer. He avoids Rumlow's eyes, and Rumlow's hand is suddenly at his throat, pushing his head back, forcing him to look up.

"Answer me. Why are you crying?"

The Soldier does not know how to answer, so he just says the first thing that comes to his mind. "Steve?"

It comes out as a question, but he is not trying to ask a question, and he does not know even what the word means, it is just in his head.

But it has an immediate impact on Rumlow, whose face turns to stone. His fingers tighten around the Soldier's throat and he pushes him back hard against the seats.

It hurts, and he does not understand Rumlow's sudden rage. As far as he is aware, he has done nothing wrong.

"Were you sleeping?" Rumlow's face is very close to his, and this at least he can answer, but he's suddenly afraid of what his answer will mean. He answers anyway.

"Yes."

Rumlow pulls him to his feet roughly. "Get up. Let's go."

He is dragged back to The Room, stripped to the waist, and pushed into the machine.

He sits silently while Rumlow talks to the men in white coats. He can hear little bits of what Rumlow is saying – "_...sleeping... remembers... make sure..." _

The words mean nothing to him. He is aware of wetness still coming out of his eyes, trailing down his cheeks, and he still does not know why, but part of him knows that it is connected to the dream and the warm blue presence - to the person in the dream with the warm hands and gentle voice and he wishes he could go back to the dream and stay there for a while, figure out what's going on, ask why the person is kind to him when no one else is. He looks down at his hands in his lap and they are shaking.

Usually the men in the white coats push him back into the machine, but Rumlow does it himself this time, roughly, his hand bruising the Soldier's chest. He hits the Soldier in the face, too, and it hurts worse than he remembers it hurting the last time he was struck. Rumlow grips his chin, forces his head up so there is nowhere to look but into his eyes, and there is a rage in him that the Soldier does not remember ever seeing before.

"You don't get to dream," he says, and his voice is like ice.

The Soldier looks back at him and he does not answer, because there is nothing to say, and he clings to the warm blue presence and thinks _But you can't stop me._

They wipe him for a long time, longer than usual, and it hurts. It hurts during the wipe and it keeps hurting after.

When they are done, and he is just shaking in the chair, little whimpers of pain escaping him, Rumlow grabs his chin and forces his face up one more time, looks into his eyes for a long time, and the Soldier just looks blankly back.

"Good."

Rumlow leaves, and the Soldier sits up slowly. His face is wet, and he does not know why.

**2012**

They have just arrived back from a mission out of country. He has assassinated someone, someone important that he does not know the name of, and now he is just standing in a windowless room, awaiting repairs on his arm.

Rumlow has left him there, and without Rumlow to give him orders he does not know what to do, so he just stands and waits, silently.

The men in white coats are not paying attention to him, which is odd. They are talking in excited voices to each other, and one of them turns on the thing called a television, something that the Soldier has only seen on a few times before. It does not interest him, because he does not know what the point of it is, or what is going on, whenever he does pay attention.

But this time all of the men in white coats are standing around it, watching intently, and the Soldier is picking up on high energy in the air. He does not dare move at all, but he turns his gaze to the screen of the television.

There is footage of explosions, and people running and screaming.

"_...this morning's attack on downtown Manhattan. The attackers have not been confirmed as of yet but witnesses on the scene have said they were alien in appearance." _

The Soldier does not understand what "alien" means, but he does know what "attack" means, and he also knows what "Manhattan" is.

"_Tony Stark was on scene with his Iron Man suit, and witnesses are saying the billionaire was instrumental in defeating the attackers. Also involved were several unidentified individuals, including a gigantic green humanoid and a man who appeared to be controlling lightning. Captain America was on scene as well, as this shaken witness can attest to." _

The television screen shows a woman with blond hair, smudged with dirt and clearly shaken.

"_Captain America saved my life," _she says, smiling and looking overwhelmed. _"Wherever he is... and wherever any of them are, I would just... I would wanna say thank you." _

The screen returns to the man who was speaking before. _"Captain America is of course Steve Rogers, the super soldier..." _

The Soldier stops listening. The screen is showing a man wearing a blue, white and red uniform. He is leaping over cars at an extraordinary speed. He is holding something with a star on it -

The Soldier is staring openly at the screen now. _Something... something. _It's as if there's something in the back of his mind straining to get out, straining to be seen, but no matter how hard he tries to grasp it and pull it forward, he can't.

He keeps watching the man fight the 'aliens' and something about his movements makes the Soldier feel like he has seen them before. The Soldier wonders if he's fought alongside him on an earlier mission, but this seems hardly likely seeing as he is almost always sent in alone - and he's sure he would have remembered this man.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Rumlow's voice, loud and furious, makes them all jump.

The television abruptly clicks off, and the man is gone, but his image leaves behind a hot blue hue on the Soldier's vision, as though he's been staring at a very bright light.

The men in white coats look back, surprised, and for the first time they notice that the Soldier was watching the television with them. Guilt and fear blossoms over the face of one of the men, and he starts to talk, but Rumlow cuts him off.

"Nevermind. Don't answer that. _Idiots!" _He turns abruptly to the Soldier, who has not moved an inch, and walks up close.

The Soldier does not have to pretend that he was not watching. None of what he saw makes any sense anyway. He blinks, and the blue does not go away.

Rumlow's dark eyes are narrowed. "What did you see on that screen?"

The Soldier does not answer because he does not know how to answer. He saw a lot of things, and he does not know what most of them were called or what they meant.

"Nothing looked... familiar?" Rumlow's face is twisted with anger, if the Soldier knew how to be scared he would be. "_Answer me!" _Rumlow grabs his throat, and the Soldier does not move or flinch.

"No," he says finally, because he does not know what 'familiar' means.

"Are you sure?" Rumlow's voice is low and dangerous, and the Soldier thinks _predator. _

He thinks about the feeling he got when he saw the man in blue, red and white – Captain America – and he wonders if this is what Rumlow is talking about.

"Did... did I work with that man before?"

"Which man?" Rumlow's tone makes cold trail down his spine.

The Soldier knows now that his answer will only make Rumlow angrier, but he does not know how to lie. He pictures the man in blue again, the thing he was carrying, _the shield. How do I know that's what it is?_

"The man in blue. Cap – Captain America? Steve R –"

Rumlow spins away from him. "Fucking _idiots. _Wipe him. You'll have to strike this from the record, because if Pierce finds out about this there is going to be _hell _to pay. And fix that _damn_ arm like you were supposed to an hour ago!"

The Soldier shivers at the name _Pierce _although he does not know why. He does not know what he did wrong, beyond knowing that man, _Captain America_, who he _must _have worked with before because everything about him is so... _familiar?_

Right up until the point that they wipe him he's still seeing the hot blue light in front of his eyes, still picturing the man in blue, still trying to figure out why he knows him.

**2014**

He first sees him on the rooftop, after he shoots Nicholas J. Fury.

He'd known as soon as he took the shot that someone was following him, chasing him, and he'd run as fast as he could but _the someone_ was keeping up.

This in itself is strange enough, but when he reaches the edge of the roof and prepares to jump, there is a rushing noise behind him that triggers something deep inside his brain and he thinks _Shield._

He turns as quick as lightning, sees the shield streaking towards him, and catches it easily with his metal arm.

Across the rooftop is the man who threw it. He is tall and blond-haired, with a strong jaw and blue, blue eyes – blue enough that even in this dim light, he can see the colour.

The Soldier meets those eyes and something inside of him shifts, something he did not know existed. It hurts. They stare at each other across the rooftop for a few seconds that feel much, much longer, and there is something in the man's eyes that makes the Soldier want to _Stand down. _

He does not understand.

_Leave, get away, run. Now. _

That is not his own voice, that is Alexander Pierce's voice,and he listens without question.

He throws the shield back across the rooftop to the man, and while the man is preoccupied catching it, the Soldier jumps off the roof.

x

"Did you see who was chasing you?" Rumlow asks, and the Soldier nods.

"What did he look like?" Rumlow's face is blank, but the Soldier reads _Hiding. _

"Tall. Blond. Fast. Probably ex-military," the Soldier rattles off.

Rumlow studies him for a long time, and the Soldier does not look away.

"That's it?" Rumlow's voice is light.

"Yes." The Soldier goes with Rumlow to the holding room and he sits in silence as Rumlow pulls out his cellphone and leaves.

X

When he fights the man on the bridge it is like fighting with himself. He can very nearly guess every move the man is about to make before he makes it. The man is predictable, and he does not understand why, but he does not question it.

When the man throws him down, knocks off his mask, he is not shaken. He turns to face him with cold calm.

But when their eyes meet, the man's face changes abruptly - his mouth falls open, his eyes widen. "Bucky?"

The Soldier stares, confused.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he asks, and he really does want to know, because whoever Bucky is, he has stopped this dangerous man in his tracks, has him slack-jawed and staring.

_At me, he's staring at me. He's calling me Bucky. Danger, danger. _

He lifts his pistol and out of nowhere something hits him hard, knocks him down, and he rolls, gets back to his feet. The man is still staring, and he is staring as if he _knows_ the Soldier. _Why? Why why why? _

_Steve? _

The word appears in his head out of nowhere, and the thing in his chest shifts again abruptly and he raises his weapon instinctively, but does not fire.

He does not see where the explosion comes from, but he takes advantage of it to hide his getaway. He can no longer be there. Something is very wrong.

x

He rides in the back of the van with Rumlow.

His heart is racing, his head is pounding, his chest hurts. He cannot stop seeing the man on the bridge's face.

_Bucky? Who the hell is Bucky? Who the HELL IS BUCKY? _Why can it not leave him alone? _What is Steve? Where did that word come from? Why? Why? What the hell is STEVE? _

He keeps seeing a little lick of blue flame in his head, and he does not know where _it_ came from either.

He becomes aware that Rumlow is watching him, and he thinks about asking Rumlow what "Steve" is, but he does not like Rumlow, and he does not know if Rumlow will answer him truthfully.

_I will ask Pierce. _

His head throbs with every bump they go over and he feels as if he is about to be sick. This is not something he is used to feeling. But it has been a long time since his last time in the machine.

He cannot get the man's face out of his head. _Why him? Why him?_

_x_

The men in white coats are fixing his arm, and it hurts. He barely notices. An image appears in his mind, sudden and unexpected.

_Snow. Snow and blood. _

His arm throbs and the Soldier's breath catches. It has never hurt like this before.

_A man with glasses. Men in white coats. Two hands, a metal one and a flesh one. _

_A face in the glass. A face he does not know. _

He throws his arm out, easily knocking away the men in white coats who are working on it, and they crash to the ground several feet away.

_My head my head MY HEAD. STEVE._

"Mission report."

It is Pierce. The Soldier did not notice him come in.

He does not answer. The man's face is still in his mind, and for some reason he knows that there is a connection between the snow and blood and the man on the bridge. It does not make sense.

Pierce strikes him across the face, and he barely feels it. He never does.

"Mission. Report."

He does not want to report the mission. He wants to know what is going on in his mind.

"The man on the bridge..." He begins, fully aware that he should not be speaking if he is not reporting on the mission. "Who was he?"

Pierce's eyes shift oddly. "You met him earlier this week on another assignment."

The Soldier thinks _Liar. _

He can remember to last week. He can remember last month. _I did not meet that man at any time in the past month. Two months. Not... recently. _And it clicks then. Steve is not just a _word_, Steve is a _name. _The man on the bridge's name. The blue flame in his mind flickers, gets brighter.

"I knew him," he says, because _I do. I do know him. How else do I know his name? Steve? _

Pierce clears his throat, pulls up a chair and sits down.

The Soldier eyes him warily. He has said too much and he will be punished.

"Your work has been a gift to mankind," Pierce says, and this is not what the Soldier is expecting. "You've shaped this century. And I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're gonna give it a push. But – if you don't do your part, I can't do mine. And Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves."

_No. _

The Soldier looks away. He does not care about what he has done, who he has killed, what he has shaped.

_I want to know about the man on the bridge. I want to know about Steve. _

He meets Pierce's eyes. "But I knew him."

He knows he is pushing it. He does not care. None of it matters anymore, because he can remember this week, he can remember two months ago, he can maybe even remember three months ago. He knows guns and weapons and pain and being alone, but he does not know of anything that they did not give him, he does not have anything of his own.

_Or I didn't, anyway. _

If he knows the man on the bridge from some time before, then there _has been sometime before _and _Who is Bucky? Who the HELL is Bucky? _His brain is being ripped apart.

Pierce sighs. He stands up, and the Soldier reads _Disappointed. _

"Prep him."

"He's been out of cryo freeze for too long," one of the other men says, and the Soldier looks down and away.

_Not too long. _

Pierce's voice is firm and icy. "Then wipe him, and start over."

Whatever it is in his chest that has been shifting breaks. He was not aware there was anything to break.

_There was something before. There was something before. _The blue flame he saw before is growing into an inferno.

They push him back into the machine, and all he can think as it closes around him is _I don't want to forget. I had something. I don't want to forget. I had something._

X

But he does not forget. Not all of the way, anyway.

His head hurts when he wakes up, just like every other time, but something about this time is different. His mind is not completely blank.

There is a warm blue around the edges of his consciousness, flickering like fire, and he sits there and concentrates on it while they prep him for the next mission.

They explain what he has to do, stop Captain America, kill him, and he nods and follows the man in black - Rumlow, he has been told - out the door.

Something is different this time. He does not know where that warm blue fire has come from. It has never been there before. Not that he can remember, anyway.

When he focuses on it it soothes him. He feels calm and strong.

Rumlow is talking in low tones with Pierce, and his eyes keep flicking over to the Soldier. The Soldier can hear a bit of what he is saying – "_different... are you sure..."_ but he does not care. He does not know what Rumlow is talking about, but it does not matter.

He feels an inexplicable draw to this mission, a strange confidence about it. The warm blue fire hums at the edges of his consciousness and he breathes into it. It is such a comforting presence, he wonders if it has always been there and for some reason he just did not notice before.

_I am not alone. _

_I am ready. _

He climbs in the van and shuts the door.

x

**Thoughts? **

**I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave me a review on your way out and let me know! :)**

**P.S. I know there was really no shameless cuddling in this story... I miss it severely and I think it will have to be the main focus of my next story... ;P**


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